


I Gave My Life For This.

by BugleLoveSong



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: AU, Happy Ending, I broke it, I fixed it, Other, Spoilers for rdr and rdr2, and then I made myself cry, enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 20:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17270480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BugleLoveSong/pseuds/BugleLoveSong
Summary: John has a run in with a man named Francis Sinclair and gives the last day of his life to finding a way to give Arthur the rest of his, with the help of Charles.





	I Gave My Life For This.

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. Sorry for any mistakes. 
> 
> And I am sorry in general. But enjoy anyway.

Charles had chosen to sleep under the stars as he so loved to do on nights like this. Not too hot and not too cold. He hadn’t even bothered with a fire, content to eat from a tin if it meant that the wildlife of the heartlands would stir around him. And he had been right about that, a small heard of deer off to his left grazed far closer then they usually would. A small rabbit right by the end of his bedroll, a small group of turkeys almost close enough to touch but the one thing that had his heart pounding and kept him distracted was a lone buffalo sleeping a short distance away, blocked only slightly by the head of his new horse where she grazed. 

That is probably why it took him so long to recognise the sound of an approaching horse. By the time the animals had scattered, and he had grabbed for his bow the man had already dismounted and was crossing the short distance between them. So, he let the bow fall and pulled his knife from his holster at his side. But as the man looms over him something makes him pause. So instead of burying his knife in the man’s belly he simply tightens his grip and sits a little straighter. 

And then rough hands are cupping his face and chapped lips are pressed against his own and the knife falls from his hand. The shear desperation in the man’s movements has Charles kissing back, one hand cupping the man’s neck while the other buries itself in the front of his shirt to keep him close. Instead of fighting back like he really should be doing, he simply lets himself be lost to the first loving contact he has had in years. 

“You are just as handsome as the last time I saw you. Though, you are looking a little young there Charles. I hadn’t realised how much stress we must have put on you there at the beginning though I guess I should have,” the stranger offers as he shifts back, brushing fingertips through Charles’s hair before sitting comfortably on the end of Charles’s bedroll. 

“Do I know you?” Charles questions as he sits forward to examine the man’s features in the bright light the moon was giving off. But he is not familiar, there isn’t a twig of recognition popping into his head and he is more then certain that he would recognise those scars anywhere.

“Not yet. But you will… Probably just about better then you will ever know anyone, I recon. John Marston,” he introduces offering his hand for Charles to shake even though it seems a little redundant after that kiss. 

“Charles…”

“Smith. Yes. And the ever beautiful Taima,” John hums, looking over at where Charles’s horse was now grazing beside the still tacked brown mare. 

“Do you care to explain? Truthfully I have no idea why I didn’t kill you.”

“It’s because we still have a lifetime to live together. I don’t know if it is true but I have been told that connected souls can recognise one another, even before our timelines sync up. A year from now, we will meet, and you will join the Van der Linde gang. I don’t know if it would happen without me telling you, so I just want to make sure I put the whole thing in motion…”

“I don’t like running with others.”

“I know you don’t. But I need you to do this for me. It will be hard to start with, but I promise that your life will become infinitely better. With us, you will find family… And, actually, that is why I am here. You will meet the love of your life when you fall in with us. Everything will go to shit, but you have to stick by him, by us. God knows we need you more then you could ever need us.”

“Why do I get the feeling that isn’t true?” Charles questions, shooting John an amused look. 

But John suddenly becomes terribly serious, shifting to pull the loop of a satchel over his head and setting it in his lap. “I have given up the rest of my life for this. Days I could have spent with my family, but I couldn’t let it end that way for him. He gave /everything/ to save us, all of us, and the world spat in his face for it. He died not knowing what had become of any of us, not knowing that his sacrifice made the world a far better place. Truthfully, I don’t even know if this stuff is going to work. When I got this from, they needed a lot more information than the small amount that I could offer but they gave me this stuff anyway. They called it antibiotics and supposedly it is the cure for tuberculosis.”

“I am not following,” Charles admitted a little sheepishly, opening the satchel to examine one of the small, orange bottles inside. 

“He has to take the full dose, for nine months. No matter if he starts feeling better or worse, he has to keep taking it. You have to promise me that you will try everything, no matter what happens.” The pleading in John’s eyes as he grips Charles’s hands makes his heart hurt. 

The “I promise” he offers back is completely genuine as he tucks the bottles away and shuffled closer to John’s side. “Who?”

“His name is Arthur Morgan. And he is the very best man that either of us will ever know. Aside from you, maybe. And I know this all sounds utterly crazy and…”

“It does. It really does. But That horse… I got her last week and I only decided on a name about a day ago, not yet having said it aloud. And all this is rather elaborate. If it is a lie I can’t even begin to imagine what you would gain from it. You haven’t even asked me for money.”

“And I am not going to.”

“So what harm can it do holding onto that bag for a year until I either meet you again or I don’t.” 

John lets out a sigh that seems to deflate him entirely and leaves him leaning tiredly against Charles’s side. 

“Arthur is the one that found this. But he was too caught up in saving the rest of us to realise that he could save himself. You just… You have to make sure that when he meets a man named Francis Sinclair that he does help him and finds the ten rock carvings. They are the key to all of this and if he doesn’t write about it in his journal then I will never find Francis and be able to get those from the next century.”

“The next century? Alright, I need you to stop talking now,” Charles stated, shaking his head.

“Yeah, sorry. A lot to throw at you.”

They fall silent for a few moments, watching their horses and simply enjoying each other’s company.

“Will you stay?” Charles finally asked, not quite ready to let the ridiculous man go. 

“Just for the night… If you will have me. Spending my last night with a friend is a little too tempting to pass up.”

“I… I can’t do the same for you? What you are doing for Arthur?”

“Unfortunately, there is no cure for bullet wounds. Besides, I bought it on myself. Revenge is a fool’s errand and I learned, or am learning, that the hard way. You just take care of him and all of this will be worthwhile.”

“Then stay,” Charles stated, nudging John off so he could return to laying on his bedroll, only this time he tried to leave enough room at his side for John. John shucked his boots, shrugged off his vest, set aside his hat and tossed his gun belt down to join Charles’s before he moved to lay completely against his side. His cheek resting over Charles’s heart and his hand tucked up under the edge of his shirt as if needing the grounding feeling of skin. 

“If Arthur Morgan is the love of my life, what are you to me?”

“I don’t rightly know. He was like a brother to me, but then again, we were always closer than that. He had a hand in raising me. Though actually thinking about it he probably did most of the work. It was just that Dutch blinded us into thinking it was all his doing. So, if not a brother then a best friend or something close. You meant the world to him, so by default you mean just as much to me. But then again you mean more than that because you helped me give my family the life they deserved.” He just sort of trailed off his rambling before he began chuckling quietly to himself. “He’d be pissed to know that I got to kiss you first.”

Charles couldn’t resist bringing his hand up to trail though John’s hair, attempting to offer comfort any way he could. “Then I will be sure to let it slip at some point.”

“Oh no, please don’t. He has broken my nose more than enough times without giving him reason to do it again… We are, we will be in a pretty rough place when you turn up. I was raised by outlaws, so you can imagine I am not the most stable person. Throw a great heap of extra responsibility onto those flames and I am running for the hills before I can think about whats good for me. I came back but that didn’t mean much to Arthur. You do a pretty good job of holding us together until I can get my head out of my ass and he finds a little bit of forgiveness in that suborn heart of his… And Wapiti is important, don’t let that opportunity pass because of Arthur. Just follow your heart. Once everything goes South, you. Ah, you buried him facing West to watch the setting sun. Hopefully you won’t have to do it again,” John offered, his voice moving from confident to a sort, sad mumble. 

“I’ll do everything that I can, that I can promise you,” Charles stated, pressing a kiss to the top of John’s head and holding him close. 

They fall asleep eventually. John first, and then his even breathing and gentle snores lull Charles to rest also. Though when he is woken by the early rays of the sun peeking over the horizon he is alone. And while it is easy enough to pass the whole night off as some strange dream the reality is he finds that satchel full of pills among his belongings. 

 

 

 

A year later, almost to the day he runs into three men robbing a stage coach out West, having lets his heart lead him. The first two introduce themselves as Dutch and Hosea. And while Charles doesn’t need the third to introduce himself he takes the man’s hand anyway and listens to him offer up his name. “John Marston.”

He is younger by a fair margin and Charles can’t help by be thankful of how many years the man has left. His face is missing time and scars but in every other way he is so very similar to the John he had met that night. They easily become friends in the short time it takes him to earn Dutch’s trust. Though he realises his mistake when he arrives in camp for the first time and Arthur wants nothing to do with him because of their friendship. 

It takes him a good six months to finally gain his attention and trust. But by then he was well and truly in love with the man. And they were well and truly sliding into the ‘everything goes to shit’ that John had warned him of. He held John and Arthur together as much as he could and then watched their tentative friendship become so much more. 

The pills worked. Arthur’s cough never worsted from a mild inconvenience. Even after his run in with Colm, and then the shipwreck and several days spent on Guarma, or even when Dutch seemed to be trying to run the poor man into the ground. 

His heart lead him to remain in Wapiti but it didn’t take long for him to be drawn back to the gangs last hideout to find Susan’s body. He followed the trail, finding the bodies of Old Boy and the nasty black shire that Hosea had told Arthur to get rid of all those weeks ago but Arthur hadn’t been able to part with.

And then he came across the body on the top of the cliff. The tears came easily and Charles cursed John for ever having thought that he could change the future. 

 

 

But then the head turned and a quiet “Charles” was muffled by the swelling of Arthur’s face. Battered and bruised but alive.

 

 

 

He made sure that Arthur knew what became of everyone he had saved. Visiting Mary-Beth and Tilly and most importantly – a trip to Beecher’s Hope to visit the small but thriving Marston family. 

“Here, I guess this is yours,” John had said, attempting to return Arthur’s journal and hat but it was Charles who declined and then later took the man aside to explain, telling him about that night all those years ago. 

“And I need you to do it again. I know I have no right to ask and I know I don’t deserve it…”

“But he does,” John had stolen Charles’s words. His attention on the journal page that mentioned Francis Sinclair. “If I can do this for the both of you, then you know I will,” John had said so easily, without even a hint of hesitation and that was the end of their discussion…

 

 

 

And yet it turns out that Charles had managed to save John after all. It was he, Arthur and Sadie that ascended that mountain and killed Micah. Who stole the attention of the Pinkertons and kept them from hunting down John. They outran them for years, never missing a proper home when they had each other. 

The next time they returned to Beecher’s hope Charles’s hair was grey and Arthur had lost most of his. Their bodies no longer up to the task of running or fighting and their hearts no longer in the escape. 

In that little house that John had built he now lived alone. Abagail and Uncle buried up on the hill, Jack had his own family in his own home only an hour away. John invited them in and asked them to stay. 

Eventually it was just Charles and John. 

And then it was only Charles. 

Seemed fate still needed to take them in the correct order, but Charles didn’t grieve. He knew he had had a lifetime that he never should have gotten. And so, he buried them side by side up on that hill.

And a few years later Jack followed Charles’s last request and buried him between them, right where he belonged.


End file.
